October 16, 2009
On October 16, 2003 I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I remember that day with vivid detail, what the weather was like, the warm sun and cool breezes, the color of autumn leaves on the Indiana landscape, and waiting around a small Hoosier hospital with my mind racing from the news that I was ill and had a huge battle to prepare for. All of the blood tests, X-rays, CT scans and ultrasounds...it was not an enjoyable morning. I recall sitting in a small waiting room with my mother watching President Bush speak on the television from California when the doctor came in with a not so positive look on his face. "We don't know what it is, we know it is cancer but can't figure out how to treat you until after we remove it. Please clear you schedule for tomorrow, we are going into surgery first thing...but wait you don't have kids, let's delay for a week to allow you to bank sperm." I just thought I had a sports injury, what a change of events it turned out to be.
A week later I had surgery, they were going to remove both testicles in a very short operation. When I woke up the doctor was there, with that same look of confusion and seriousness from the previous Wednesday. "We stopped the surgery; I have never seen anything like this before. I am going to have to send you to IU Med. They are the experts." Awesome, I thought that it would be over in one quick sweep, but I had to do all of the tests again, and let all of this stew in my mind for the next month. The team of doctors at IU was incredible. Dr. Bihrle and Foster are hands down the experts in the treatment plan that was developed. I go into surgery again, just a few days before Thanksgiving. The doctors decide to remove the tumor from the remaining testicle. (It is as painful as it sounds, gentlemen.) Pathology comes in the day before the holiday, and it is not all that great. "Lytic cell tumor, very rare, pretty well encapsulated but this tumor does not behave like any other cancer. It is untreatable, undetectable, and metastasis certainly has a low survival rate. Chemo and radiation will do nothing for this." Happy Thanksgiving.
During the post op appointment, we discussed the options. 1) Do nothing and hope that there is no metastasis. 2) Undergo a radical operation to remove the lymph nodes between the testis and the lungs to hopefully confirm that there is no spread and have peace of mind. I took the second option and went into surgery in mid December. The operation lasted over 8 hours, and the recovery was hell. They removed 17 nodes from deep within my abdomen which we sent out for a pathology report. It only took a week, but it seemed like an eternity. On Christmas Eve, Dr Bihrle called. He stayed around to get the report, even though he was supposed to be home preparing for a holiday party. He sounded scarily serious when I picked up the call. He spent about 5 minutes describing the process of the testing that they did all sorts of details that I cannot recall, until he said all 17 lymph nodes showed negative pathology, congratulations, have a Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas indeed!
I thought I would share, although many of you already know the story, some of you may not. Today is a big day. 6 years means no more x rays or annual CT scans. No more anxiety waiting to get the radiology report even though you know it is negative. No more excuses. No more worries.
Cancer, is a horrible thing to deal with, its hard, its ruthless, and it beats you down. I would have to say that I am glad that I have fought the disease. It has changed my perspective on everything. Without it, I would not be the person that I am today.
Tomorrow we start the Qualcomm Million Dollar Challenge. This whole experience was been the perfect way to close the cancer chapter and start writing a new one.
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